Beautiful
by InoFan
Summary: Muraki and Tatsumi have a confrontation concerning Hisoka, but always circling back to Tsuzuki.


Disclaimer: I of course don't own the sexy Muraki or Tatsumi. Alas.

Note: I stumbled across this, having forgotten I wrote it. I'm long since away from this fandom, but I thought what the hell! I'll put it up.

The boy was light in his arms, his slack head with its soft hair lolling against the expensive fabric of his own white suit. Above them, snow swirled, falling slowly, as if hesitant to touch the ground. The air was chilled, and it was stealing the warmth from the boy, leaving his cheeks flushed. He really was quite lovely to look upon in sleep. But only a means to an end.

The smile he lifted to the slate grey sky was unpleasant, dark. "We will see if you can continue to avoid me, when I have something so precious to you... Tsuzuki-san..."

Motions unhurried, he walked away from the place the boy had taken refuge in, his footsteps sure and intrinsically graceful in the snow. The wind picked up, forcing him to narrow his eyes as it lifted strands of impossibly silver hair to reveal startlingly sharp, pale features. Both eyes were oddly colored. Almost a match for his hair. But one was marred with flesh that had been unable to properly heal. And it was this eye he rarely showed others.

Hands as smooth as marble with narrow pianist fingers tightened their hold on the boy, and he paused, glancing up at a nearby streetlamp, the light glinting from his glasses. Long shadows pulled and stretched and contorted from the base. A man rose from them with liquid elegance, resolute and unbending in the winter night.

Another smile surfaced, both false and smug in its own self-assurance that whatever obstacles presented, he would eventually have his way.

"Tatsumi-san. How rude of you to interrupt our tête-à-tête."

Tatsumi simply stared at him steadily, expression more chilled than even the weather as he adjusted his glasses and remained unwaveringly stiff. Yet, his tone when he spoke managed to be both sparse and polite.

"I won't allow this, Muraki-sensei."

Muraki inclined his head, echoing, "Won't allow? Rather impudent of you, don't you think?"

Expression hardening, eyes like flint, Tatsumi responded evenly, "No."

Laughing softly, he reached up with one hand to stroke hair away from the boy's face. "As you can see, he isn't objecting."

"He's hardly in a position."

It wouldn't have mattered had he been. The boy wasn't and never would be on his skill level. When he fought it was with reckless abandon and explosive temper. Perhaps in another that would have been fine had he the skills as a Shinigami to support him. But there was only one with those capabilities, and he would have that man.

He had only to get rid of those impeding him. Tatsumi... and especially this boy.

His words were deceptively soft as he murmured, "I want to rip Tsuzuki-san's heart out. It's mine, not this boy's. If I have to do it by crushing him, I will."

Eyes glinting, Tatsumi fired back, his words razor-tipped, "You will never touch Tsuzuki-kun again."

He smiled secretively, knowing he'd found a weakness to exploit. So he would twist Tatsumi's words, and shove them in deeply, where they would inflict the most damage. Because after all, one could still bleed without visible wounds.

"I see. So the only reason you've come is to protect Tsuzuki-san? You care nothing for this boy?"

Something imperceptible flashed across Tatsumi's face before he tucked it away. But that lone second was enough for Muraki to know he'd wedged his way in. Now he only had to drive further.

"I don't have to explain my reasoning to you," he answered frostily, impassive.

"The fact that you won't tells me what I've suspected already."

There. Tatsumi shifted. Barely, but Muraki caught the slight widening of his stance. He would obviously carry this conversation on no longer. But Muraki also knew that Tatsumi held morals and would not fight him while he had the young boy in his arms. Which he supposed was just as well. He had other plans for him.

"What will you do, Tatsumi-san? Talk me to death?" One corner of his mouth lifted in an amused smirk.

"You know as well as I do that I won't harm Kurosaki-kun. Don't degrade both of us."

What must it feel like to be so impotent? He supposed he could imagine for a moment just for the novelty of it. He was after all, supposed to be dead, and showing up at such an inopportune time would destroy whatever happy little world they had managed to re-construct from their former one.

But enough of the games. He'd grown bored of playing.

"Bring Tsuzuki-san to me, and the boy is yours."

"No."

"You're not in a position to barter, Tatsumi-san."

Expression unyielding, anger palpable now, he lashed, "Neither are you, Muraki-sensei."

Again, he laughed. "Your refusal betrays you. You would easily sacrifice this boy if it meant your precious Tsuzuki-san need never know."

Tatsumi's eyes narrowed beneath his glasses. "I won't grace that pathetic statement with a reply."

The snow was falling faster now, leaving a sheen of white atop Tatsumi's dark hair. In the absence of words, the lack of sound might've been disturbing had Muraki not appreciated it. Glancing down at the boy in his arms, he smiled faintly, almost fatherly. His hair was soaked entirely now and plastered to his face in large sections. The expression he wore was still peaceful, angelic. But he found he prefered the mouth open and screaming in agony...

Like anyone, he appreciated beauty. He collected porcelain dolls, didn't he? But beauty was so easily disposed of, so easily marred. So perhaps he hated it more than he appreciated it. As he hated this ever aging body he was in. Unlike the Shinigami, he would die as others had. And he had yet to find that one, elusive beauty about Tsuzuki that had kept him from dying for so long.

He'd made the mistake of allowing himself to be distracted. One moment Tatsumi was standing before him, and the next he was gone.

Before he could move, shadows rose at his feet, tangling around his legs, binding them together as if they were as substantial as thick rope. And a voice said behind him, next to his ear, "I value all of my co-workers Muraki-sensei, and will not allow you to harm any of them."

Self-preservation came before all else, and he wasn't as interested in tormenting the boy as he was in keeping himself alive. So without hesitation, he hurled the boy away from him and simultaneously released enough energy to have Tatsumi regretting his choice. But Tatsumi proved faster, traveling by yet another shadow to both catch the boy and dodge the incoming blast.

With ease, Muraki broke the restraints at his feet, unimpressed with the effort Tatsumi had put into holding him there. "How disappointing."

"I will see you dead before you harm them again."

"I have no doubt you believe you will, Tatsumi-san... But the only one truly capable is too afraid of his own talents."

Making a sound of disgust, Tatsumi said, "I can no longer stomache being in your company."

"Then... run back to Tsuzuki-san, knowing that his feelings for this boy are always stronger than his feelings for you."

For a fraction of a second, Tatsumi froze, and with the boy in his arms, the movement was almost comical. And then, saying nothing, he slipped into the shadows like a ghost.


End file.
